


Hold You Tight Straight Through The Daylight

by harrehsbutterfly



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: 5 Seconds of Summer - Freeform, 5SOS - Freeform, A little bit of throwing up, Cuddles and stuff, Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, I suck at tags, No Smut, Poorly Lukey:(, Sick Luke, Sick!Luke, Sickfic, maybe a hit at Lashton, not sure what to tag oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 18:52:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1237264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrehsbutterfly/pseuds/harrehsbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble about Luke being ill, based off a photo I saw, where he basically looked really pale and shaky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold You Tight Straight Through The Daylight

Calum’s sitting at the piano, and Luke’s sitting next to him, trying to focus on the notes. He loves it when his best mate plays, usually it’s the only thing that will make him unwind, but his stomach is bothering him, and he’s not sure if that’s a bit of a throbbing headache niggling at the corner of his temple. “Smile!” Ashton’s holding out the camera, but Calum doesn’t even look up, just carries on playing, his hands on the black and white keys. Luke makes the mistake of looking up, and one hand is over his stomach as he moves to grab his hoodie and pull it down over his hands where he likes it, and before he knows it, Ashton’s snapped a photo of him.

“You look peaky.” Michael’s talking to him then, and it takes Luke a little while to realise.

“Oh, me?” he says, “Nah, I’m fine.”

He’s lying, and he should have known better, really, because the three boys know him far too well.

“Lukey, what’s wrong?” Calum leans into him, giving him a bit of a semi-hug.

“I’m okay.”

Luke knows he’s going to lose it quite quickly if his band mates continue fussing, because his stomach’s really hurting, and little sparks of pain are flying all around his head now, and he feels kind of dizzy. He doesn’t want anyone to touch him, because if they do, he’s quite probably going to cry because it all hurts, and he feels icy cold and boiling hot at the same time, and what he really, really wants is for it all to go away.

“Luke, please tell me what’s up?” Ashton tries then, and Luke groans, too tired to really give them an answer as his stomach gets more uncomfortable. He knows that he’s going to be attacked by hands pressing to his forehead any minute now.

3…

2…

1…

Michael’s hand is immediately on his head, and there’s a gasp. “Jesus, Luke. You’ve got a fever alright.”

Ashton’s rubbing his back soothingly then, and if he’s honest, he just wants to throw up everywhere, but he won’t let himself.

Calum helps him up, and as a stab hits him in the stomach, he nearly crumples to the floor in a little Hemmings heap.

“Hey, easy tiger.” Mikey laughs, but Luke feels bad, because there’s a little shake in his friend’s voice. He’s supported by both Calum and Mikey, and Ashton’s running ahead, opening doors and it seems like seconds before he’s been plonked on his soft bed, with Calum’s arms holding him up as he brings his knees into his chest to try and stop his stomach hurting.

Michael’s put a cold cloth on his forehead, and Ashton’s stressing because apparently he looks really pale.

“Guys… I’m fine, just let me sleep.”

“Luke, tell me what hurts.” Ashton practically begs, and Luke sighs, because he knows that otherwise the poor kid will probably have a panic attack.

“My stomach feels a bit funny, but that’s it. Honest.”

“Then why are you whispering?” Calum asks, gently.

“Should we talk louder?” Michael suggests, raising his voice a little at the end.

At the slight change in tone, Luke recoils violently in pain, and it feels as if one thousand hot knives are piercing his skull at once.

“No! Fuck, no. Please don’t do that.” he whispers,

“It… It hurts.”

“What hurts, Hemmo?”

“M-my head. Please, just leave me alone, I might be sick on you guys, oh God, why did I say that? I'm okay, I’m –“ He’s interrupted by Ashton putting a hand over his mouth.

“Shh, Luke. Calm down, okay?”

“Please just let me sleep.” Luke sighs, “I’ll be fine later.”

Calum holds the cloth to his head a little more, and he wriggles in, exhausted. He’s aware of Mikey turning off the lights, and his stomach’s churning a lot more. He gags at the horrible taste in his tummy, and he jumps up, even though it makes his head pound more. He sprints to the bathroom and drops to his knees, wincing at the light. It’s a few seconds before he starts heaving, and then he’s sick.

Ash is rubbing his back then, and he’s aware of horrendous amounts of hot tears running down his face, and when he’s done, Ashton puts an icy cold cloth on the back of his neck to try and calm him down whilst he brushes his teeth.

“Shh, Lukey. Shh.”

“Are you ready to move?” Ash asks gently, and Luke shrugs. He feels dizzy now, and his legs are shaking, so walking might not be an option.

“Don’t rush. Just wait here, yeah?” Luke stumbles up, and his stomach flips over, making him stagger a little.

“You sure you’re alright to go?” He nods, and walks back into the safety of the darkened hotel room, shivering slightly.

Michael and Calum are there to wrap him up in blankets and keep him safe, whilst he winces in pain. And he knows that there is nothing more he can do, that these lads will be there for him, always, and that they don’t care if he’s on the floor crying, or puking his guts out in the bathroom, or piercing his lip in a club bathroom (Oops) they love him for whatever’s going on. And he can live with that.


End file.
